by Sarah Bale
My phone buzzes in my pocket three times, and I curse under my breath. There are only two people who have that notification pattern- Saint and my mother. Right now I couldn’t give two fucks about Saint, but if it’s my mother…
Sighing, I pull over and check my phone. I’m dialing a moment later.
“You okay, Ma?”
My mother chuckles. “Yes, son, I’m fine.”
“Your text said you needed to talk ASAP.”
“I do. Can you come over?”
“Now?”
“Yes, son. Now.”
It’s barely noticeable, but the rasp in her voice sounds worse today. I’ve been trying to get her to go see her doctor, but she keeps brushing me off.
“I’ll be there in thirty.”
Twenty minutes later I pull up to the trailer that she, her boyfriend, and his wife are living in. Technically it’s not fair to call him her boyfriend. He was just as much a father to me as my own dad was. And his wife was a second mother.
Speaking of my second mother, she sits on the porch swing, smoking a cigarette with a bottle of beer sitting next to her. She’s been out here a while if the sweat on the bottle is any indication.
“King. What in the hell are you doing here, boy?”
I kiss her leathery cheek. “Hi Momma J. How you doing?”
She pats my arm. “I’m good. Still didn’t answer my question.”
“Ma asked me over.”
Momma J puts her cigarette out. “About damn time.”
Well fuck. This essentially confirms that it’s something bad. I follow her into the house where, for once, smoke doesn’t linger in the air. The furniture is still dingy as hell, but the carpet has a few fanned marks where someone tried to vacuum. Unease creeps up my spine. Something’s wrong.
“She in the kitchen?”
Momma J shakes her head. “She’s in her room.”
The damn hallway is so narrow that my shoulders bump the walls on each side. Her room is next to the master bedroom. When my old man was alive, they used to stay in a trailer across the property. But Ma didn’t like being alone after he died, so she moved in here. I offered to get them a bigger and, if I’m being honest, nicer place, but they all refused. Now I’m wishing I had insisted, especially when my boot dips in a soft spot in the floor.
Momma J taps on the open door. “Our boy is here.”
“He is? Send him in.”
Inhaling, I prepare myself for whatever I’m about to face.
My mother is sitting in her bed, propped up by several pillows. Jericho, her boyfriend and Momma J’s husband, sits next to her, holding a cup to her lips.
She swats his hand away and says to me, “There’s my son. Get your ass over here and tell me hello.”
“Hey Ma,” I say, brushing my lips against her forehead.
Her skin is clammy, again raising alarm.
Jericho stands, pulling me into his arm for a tight hug. “How’s the club?”
A biker at heart, the club always comes first with him, even though he’s not an active member. But the hug – that’s not normal. We usually greet each other by slapping each other on the back.
I try to keep my tone casual. “Nothing worth mentioning.”
“Heard you boys ran into some shit at the rally.” He lifts his eyebrow. “Everything work on out that?”
“Yeah. We took care of the fucker who turned on us. Lost a few people in the process, too.”
He nods and doesn’t ask anything else. Hell, he’s probably heard everything that’s happened. My mother was friends with Mama Bear, which is why Jericho’s not pressing for more details, if I were to guess. He doesn’t want to upset her.
Ma asks, “How’s Saint?”
“Same old, same old.”
Ruining people’s lives because he’s scared of letting someone get too close to him, I think bitterly.
“You ought to bring him around. I love looking at that man’s ass.” She laughs at her own joke, but soon loses her breath as a coughing fit takes over.
Jericho and Momma J both move next to her, talking to her in soothing tones until she pushes their hands away.
“I’m fine, dammit.”
“No, you’re not.”
She glares at Momma J before saying to me, “Ignore her. She’s overreacting.”
“I swear to god, woman,” Jericho says under his breath. “So help me-”
“Ma, what’s going on?”
My mother looks at me. “The cancer is back.”
I feel like the carpet’s been yanked beneath my feet. She had cancer years ago, and we almost lost her then. What if-
“How bad is it?”
“You know them doctors – they say whatever it takes to get your money.”
“Ma-”
Jericho answers, “They’re giving her six months to live, King.”
My mind races in several directions. Six months is bad, but that means there’s time to get a second opinion and-
My mother touches my arm. “They gave me six months to live. Five months ago.”
No!
Momma J says, “We tried to get her to call you sooner, but she didn’t want you to worry.”
“Did you get a second opinion?”
“A second. A third. Hell, I think I’ve seen every specialist in the South.” Ma’s lips lift in an attempt at a smile. “I’m tired, boy. And I want to do this on my own terms.”
“What does that mean?”
“Jericho, Momma J, and I are taking a trip to Colorado.”
“Colorado?”
I rack my brain, trying to think who she knows in Colorado.
“I won’t be coming back with them.”
I’ve seen and heard a lot of shit over the years, but I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around this. Is she… is she really suggesting what I think she is?
“Let me get this straight. You’re going to let some fucking doctor give you pills so you can kill yourself?”
“No. I’m going to die with dignity.” Anger flashes in her blue eyes that mirror my own. “Son, this isn’t a decision I’ve made lightly. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking and praying on it.”
“Yeah. Five months.”
“That’s right. And do you want to know what else I’ve done?” She yanks the scarf on her head revealing her bald scalp that’s covered in little scabs. “I’ve let them fuckers shoot chemo into my body until I was so sick I had to be hospitalized. I’ve had to sit in my own filth while Jericho and Junebug wiped my ass. I’ve had to stop going outside because everything makes me nauseous.”
Tears stream down her face and I wrap my arms around her, feeling just how frail she is. Fuck. I feel like a fucking tool.
“Ma, I’m sorry.”
“King, I don’t want to leave you behind, but I’m ready to go. I just wanted to see you one last time.”
“When do you leave?”
“Our flight is this evening.” She smiles up at me. “I hope this isn’t one more parenting moment I’ve fucked up.”
Momma J says, “You were a great mother.”
Were.
Fuck.
This is really happening.
“I wasn’t and I’ve made peace with it, but I think he turned out alright.”
The alarm on the clock sitting on the nightstand buzzes. Jericho turns it off and opens the top drawer, pulling out a pill organizer. He dumps about twenty different pills and capsules into his hand and reaches for the glass of water.
My mother says to me, “Son, I’m going to ask you to leave now. Sometimes I get sick taking my meds and I don’t want you to remember me this way.”
There are a million things I want to say in this moment, but nothing comes to mind.
She cups my face with her small hand. “I know, son, I know.”
I hug her again and whisper, “I love you, Ma.”
“I love you, too, and I’m so damn proud of you.”
We hug until she begins to cough.
> Momma J says, “Come on, King. Let’s give her some privacy.”
I walk away without looking back. She’s right – I want to remember her healthy, not like this.
I follow Momma J outside, to the porch. Momma J picks up her beer, taking a long swig.
“I hope you aren’t mad at us for not telling you sooner. She’s so damn stubborn.”
“I’ve been told I have a touch of that stubbornness, too.”
That makes her snort. “That’s no lie.”
“What’s the plan when you get to Colorado?” I pray she can’t hear the tremor in my voice.
“We meet with the physician when we land.”
“When will it happen?”
“He’ll give her an exam and then ask her one last time if she’s sure. After that, he’ll give her the medication to take when she’s ready.” She brushes a tear away. “I’m not sure how we’re going to get through this. Losing your father was hard, but this – this is something we might not be able to get over.”
I’m at a loss for words, but she saves me from responding by letting out a small laugh.
“But this is what she wants, and we’re going to support her because she deserves that much.”
“Yes, she does.”
“Thank you for telling her that you love her. I know things haven’t always been the best… but hearing that meant a lot to her.” She pauses. “We’ll let you know when we get back. She’s going to be cremated, so there won’t be any kind of service.”
Hearing those works seems so… final.
“I’ll keep my phone on.”
“Good. And be expecting something in the mail. She sent a letter, just in case you weren’t available today.” She smiles, tears filling her eyes. “She was always able to convey her emotions through words.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, seeing Saint’s name on the screen.
“Momma J, I-”
“Go on. Club business comes first.”
She kisses my cheek before going inside. I close my eyes before answering the call. She’s right – club business comes first.
3
Olivia
I wake up before my alarm goes off. Jas can have visitors today, and I want to be there as soon as possible. Lucy didn’t come home last night, texting to say she was with Andrew. I’m really happy for her and it’s kind of nice having the place to myself. Mostly because Lucy can’t hear when I’m crying, which happened four times last night.
I’m at the hospital ten minutes before visiting hours start. I decide to kill time by browsing the gift shop. Crap. I should probably grab her something so I don’t show up emptyhanded. But I don’t know what she likes. Sure, her room at the clubhouse was decked out in One Tree Hill memorabilia, but that’s about all that I know about her. The rest was all a part of her cover.
Ironically, I end up finding a pom-pom that says Get Well Soon on the handles. That’s as close to her favorite show as I’m going to get, so I buy a pair. By the time I get to her door, my hands are shaking, and not just from the overpowering memories I have being at this hospital. What if she doesn’t want to see me? What then?
Fuck it. She might not want to see me, but I need to see her.
I tap on the door. “Hey. Can I come in?”
Jas looks up, grinning. “Olivia! Yes, come in!”
There’s a vase of wilting flowers next to her bed, but other than that there aren’t any personal touches. I sit in the chair and let out a nervous laugh.
“I got this for you.”
She opens the plastic sack, and I feel like a jerk for not spending the extra five bucks to get an actual gift bag.
“I love it. Thank you.”
We smile at each other and all nerves I feel vanish.
“I’m so glad you’re doing better.”
“Me, too. That was the scariest thing I’ve ever been through in my entire life. I could feel, see, and hear everything happening around me, but I couldn’t speak.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I’m fully aware of the side effects of the drug she was given. This isn’t something I’m going to tell her, though. It opens up the door to talk about my past, and I’m never going to do that.
“Agent Hill said he thought you might stop by.” She shakes her head, smiling to herself. “That man is one of a kind.”
“I think our experiences with him might be different.”
“Did he save your life?”
I nod.
“Then it’s exactly the same, which is why I offered to help him. Plus, walking away with a clean record was a huge bonus.”
Since we’re diving right in, I ask, “Did you know I was working with him?”
“Not at first. After the first botched run I began to suspect.”
“What made you suspect?”
“The guilt was eating you alive. Hell, I’m surprised they didn’t notice.”
I flinch and she lets out a curse.
“Sorry. I know you really cared about them.”
Cared. As if all the feelings I have for them have magically disappeared.
“Have they… have they reached out to you?”
“No, but I didn’t expect them to. They’re letting me walk away with my life. That’s good enough for me.”
“I’m assuming you at least knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to work with Agent Hill.”
She nods. “I’d heard about the Devil’s Regents for a while. When I got the job at their strip club, I finally put faces to them.”
I hate the surge of jealousy I feel. She mentioned once that she got her club nickname of Jasmine from Saint while she was working as a stripper. It bothered me then and it bothers me now. Which is fucking nuts, right? I mean, if I were sane, I’d say fuck them all.
A nurse comes in, cup in hand. “I hate to interrupt, but it’s time for your afternoon meds.”
I stand. “I should go. I have class in an hour.”
“Don’t be a stranger. They’re saying I’m going to be here for a while.”
“I won’t.”
I leave with a wave of my hand. When I get outside, I gather my thoughts. Am I going to visit her? The thing is, I don’t know. Being with her reminds me of them, which is bittersweet. On the other hand, she’s one of the only people in the world who knows what I went through. So, I’ll probably be back.
For the second day in a row I hear the sounds of a motorcycle taking off as I walk to my Uber. It gives me hope and breaks my heart at the same time.
The next two weeks fly by as I try to establish a new routine. I go to class. Visit Jas when I can. And even manage to hang out with Lucy and Andrew a few times. At night, my normal nightmares are replaced with ones about the guys, and I wake up sobbing for them. But, one thing’s clear – I’m sinking further into this hole of depression. Everything I do is forced. Every smile. Every attempt at small talk. All I want to do is sleep.
It’s definitely worse today, too. Probably because when I drove by the clubhouse one of the Prospects told me that Saint said to stop coming by or he’d call the cops on me. Talk about adding shit to the manure pile called my life. Even thinking about it makes me want to crawl into a hole and never show my face again. I know I should stop trying to get their attention, but I can’t.
But now I’m sitting in Jas’s hospital room where I can at least feel normal. Well, that’s what I think when she mutes the TV, sighing loudly.
“Can I say something without pissing you off?”
“Go for it.”
“You know in New Moon when Edward leaves and Bella goes all angsty for months?” She points at me and says, “You’re about to give her a run for her money. Plus, I can smell you from over here.”
“I don’t smell, and I have a right to be upset.”
“For a week, maybe. You should be getting over them or at least making them regret sending you away.”
“Hard to make them regret it when I have no way to contact them. They’re all
acting like I don’t exist.”
I don’t mention that I was told to stay away from the clubhouse, because that makes me sound pathetic.
“I forget how young you are sometimes.”
“A- we’re the same age. B- what’s that supposed to mean?”
“They might have sent you away, but I know you’ve heard the motorcycles when you leave. One, if not all of them, are still keeping tabs on you.”
My breath hitches. “You’ve heard them, too?”
“Hard to miss, especially Razor’s bike. I say you need to make them eat their hearts out.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?”
She grabs the notepad next to her bed and scribbles something down. “Go here and ask for Arizona. Tell her I sent you. She’s the one in charge and she’ll set you up.”
I glance at the paper and see the name of a strip club.
“How do you know she’ll help?”
“The bitch owes me a favor.”
“But I’ve never stripped before.”
“You’ve got the body for it, and Arizona will help you out.” She grins. “Once you’re finally on stage, King or Saint will hear about it. That’s when the real fun will start.”
I can’t deny the quiver of excitement that courses through my body.
“What do you mean?”
“Saint won’t stand for you to work in his club. When that happens, come back to me. I have another person who owes me a favor and he’s not in Saint’s pocket like a lot of the other clubs are. You’ll get their attention one way or another. Just be ready, because you’re playing with fire.”
“Damn Jas. You’re a bad ass.”
She lifts a shoulder. “That’s why I fit so easily into their world.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Every day. I only hope once I leave here and move on that I’ll be able to forget that world. You know, give being a good girl a chance.”
“I’m not sure we’re meant to be good.”
“We can try and have fun doing so.” She unmutes the TV. “Back to our Twilight marathon.”
But my mind is elsewhere as Bella tries to figure out who she belongs with. If it were me, I’d pick both of them. I mean, why should she have to choose?